The Deviant

by Tiana Laveen

  He turned back around, resolved to just finish out, as uncomfortable as he felt. He paused, coughed into his fist, then found himself doing it again a few minutes later. Through the haze in the place, he caught sight of the other artist, wishing to see what he was up to. Damn. That’s dope. The guy was painting a brick wall with graffiti. It looked so realistic.

  “Here.” He was startled to see Suri there, wearing a bright red fur lined jacket now that popped against her complexion. It was borderline gaudy, but beautiful at the same time. Her friends stood near her, all seemingly engaged in their own side conversations. “You look thirsty.”

  “I’m sure there’s some sort of shade, as they call it, weaved in there, right?” He chuckled. “I’m thirsty, right? I was the one who stepped to you so that makes me thirsty.”

  “No. You look thirsty.” She waved a lazy finger in his direction. “Sweat is all over your face, and you keep looking over at the bar, which is where I was when I was waiting to see what you were painting. You were looking over at the bar like it’s a mirage and you’re a dying man in the desert. But I’m sure you weren’t looking at bad energy, uncalibrated ol’ me, right?” She smiled, but he doubted it was heartfelt. He looked at the beer bottle she thrust at him, then back at her. As if reading his mind, she grimaced and shook her head. “It’s unopened, Aladdin.”

  He snickered at her insult and rubbed on his beard.

  “That’s good to know.”

  “And as if I would risk jail time for something so ridiculous, with my uncalibrated, bad energy having ass. I’ve been reduced to a car and black magic, like that demonically possessed car from the movie, Christine. I guess Stephen King owes me royalties.” A couple of her friends giggled and spun around.

  He snatched the beer from her grasp. He raised his shirt, inadvertently exposing more of himself than he’d intended, then noticed several pairs of eyes on him, and one audible gasp, as he twisted the bottle cap. Was his underwear showing? His pubic hair trailing up his stomach? Or his abs that he tried to hold onto despite an addiction to the bodega tacos… Oh, perhaps the tail end of his panther tattoo that was etched across his chest. One of her girlfriends laughed into her hand like some silly young thing. He kept his eyes trained on all of them as he chugged hard on the beer. The cold beverage felt so damn good going down. A cure to the drought. It hit the spot.

  “No ‘thank you?’”

  “Of course I want to thank you, Little Red Riding Hood. Ya know, since I’m Aladdin and all.” She smirked at his words. “All jokes aside, thank you very much, Suri. I really do appreciate it.”

  “Anyway, nice painting. Whatever it is.” She waved her hand flippantly at the wall. “We’re leaving. Take it easy, King.” She shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and turned away.

  “Hold up, Suri. Stay.” She put on a curious expression. “Sit here and watch me complete it. I’m almost finished.” She hesitated, while her friends spoke in some nonverbal code that only women seemed to understand. She glanced at her watch, a bit vexed.

  “I’ll consider it, but I’m not going to buy your painting, just in case that was your next plan of attack.”

  “No plans. No attacks. I didn’t ask you to purchase it. I want you to just sit there and look pretty.”

  “I don’t like your energy.” She grinned, clearly teasing him.

  “That’s fine, but you don’t have to lie to me to kick it.” One of her friends burst out laughing and walked away, waving her hand as if she’d heard enough.

  “Are you sure you want my bad energy around you?” she joked, though he knew she was apparently disturbed by his earlier comment.

  “Yes, I want your bad energy all around me.” He winked at her and now he was certain. She definitely blushed. “Come on, sit down.” He pointed at the bench, polished off the rest of the beer, and resumed his painting like a mad man. It didn’t take long before he could hear the oohing and ahhhing when he began to lift paint away in sections with a metal spatula. Out of the corner of his eye he could see more money being jammed in his bucket, and then, the music stopped. Faded away like some of the best years of his youth.

  He worked his ass off to finish and expose his work, from left to right, top to bottom, both hands covered in paint—he was a mess of a man. His excitement brimmed within him and spread like a fire. Finally, it was done. He climbed down the ladder and was met with a deafening applause. There, in the paint splotches with the blue sky dabbled with pink and purple streaks, he revealed at the last moment a woman whose body appeared in shades of blue and parts of her were made from fluffy white clouds. She stretched across the canvas, seeming infinite, as if she—and the audience—could reach out and touch her sky. Everything was in the air, high in the clouds, with the exception of the cloudy woman’s bright red shoes…

  He met eyes with Suri, and she lowered her head, shaking it, covering her forehead with a well-manicured hand adorned with a large onyx ring, but he could still see the smile on her face. And it made him feel better than he would’ve ever guessed.

  “Bitch, that’s you!” A burst of laughter followed the woman’s statement. Suri held her head high and crossed her legs, looking a bit smug. The hoarse voice continued, bombarding the mood, “This motherfucka painted your ass as clouds. CLOUDS. Now that’s some ‘get in ya panties’ type shit I can appreciate! You must be on cloud nine right now, Suri. Got strangers painting you on walls ’nd shit.”

  Some people in the crowd slapped hands with him, a few dropped more cash in the now overflowing tip bucket. Grabbing his satchel, he transferred the money inside before some asshole tried to steal his stash. He then quickly signed his piece at the bottom, and removed some of the paint from his hands with wet wipes. The host came back on the microphone.

  “All right, there’s a bit more time on the clock, but it looks like both artists have completed their work. Congratulations to both of you!”

  The crowd cheered them on. After a few minutes, several people approached him, wishing to purchase the piece. Some offers were more reasonable than others. Suri sat there patiently, but he didn’t miss how she kept staring at the painting, as if in awe.

  “I’ll be right back.” She nodded as he crossed the room to go shake the other artist’s hand.

  “Hey, man. Your work is amazing,” the guy said to him.

  “So is yours. Impressive.”

  “I didn’t expect that shit!” The guy cackled. “I thought I had this in the bag, I’d get all the tips, then you started scraping up shit and I was like… damn!” King burst out laughing. “When did he paint that lady under those layers of paint?! I missed that. Anyway, you’ve got mad skills, man. That’s wild.”

  “Thanks. I hope you get a good deal on your piece. It’s wonderful.”

  “Thanks again, man.” King walked back to his station, noticing Suri taking photos of the piece of art.

  Before he could speak to her, he was approached by someone who offered nine hundred dollars for his painting. He was floored. He wasn’t expecting more than five hundred. The guy whipped out his phone and sent the sum to his Cash App right away.

  “So, what they do is they’ll make arrangements to have it mailed to you. Since you said you only live a few blocks away, you might just want to do it yourself. Save yourself the aggravation.” He continued to talk to the buyer, and they exchanged information. When it was all over, he turned to Suri and smiled. He moseyed over and sat next to her. He studied her, loving how she smelled and looked. So, I was going to write her off. She’s interesting. I’m horny. Most people are just shitty. But, I may have been wrong about her. Let me see…

  “First of all, thank you for being so patient. Now, we can finally have a real conversation.”

  She offered a lopsided grin as she ran her hand along her knee.

  “Yes, we can. Again, congrats on your painting, the sale, and on being chosen tonight. I hate to see me go, but I’m sure I’ll be in a better place. Up there in those heavenly clouds… The wake is
at eleven.”

  He chuckled at her words.

  “Butter.”

  She gave him a confused look, then laughed.

  “Cream.”

  “Cake? Like frosting? I wanted to see what popped in your mind first. You said cream, like icing. You must like sweets.”

  “Are you drunk?” She sucked her teeth.

  “No.” He shook his head. “Just silly sometimes. I bet I’m right though.”

  “What if I told you I guessed it because I love dairy products?”

  “I wouldn’t believe you.” I like dairy too… The ones on your chest are choice.

  “Good. Because it was definitely frosting.” She bit into her lower lip and he found himself drifting closer to her. Her eyes fluttered just as he was about to land a kiss.

  “Luccccy in the sky! Wit’ diamonds!” Shane sang loudly, tipsy as hell.

  The fellas were eyeing him, then Suri, then him again.

  “We’ll catch you tomorrow, man,” Jalil said.

  They said their farewells and he watched them exit the club.

  “So, what do you do?” he asked as he reached for the empty bottle of beer. He rolled his thumb against the slick glass, turning it back and forth.

  “I’m a 911 dispatcher.”

  “Oh, really. That’s interesting. Hold up.” He saw a bartender skirting by. “Yo, man. Would it be possible to get a couple bottles of water? Got some money.” He started to stand up.

  “No, it’s cool. I got you.” The guy took the empty bottle from him.

  “Thanks, man.”

  “Okay, back to you. Do you like working as a 911 dispatcher?”

  “Actually, I do. I just wish it paid more.” He nodded in understanding. “I also do home-staging. People call me when they want to show their place on Airbnb. Hotels sometimes contact me, too, before updating their website photos. Things of that nature.”

  “I like that. You’re an artist, too.” He stroked his beard. “That’s tight.” She smiled, then looked away. “You are. That takes talent, having a good eye.” She glanced back at the painting.

  “It’s beautiful. Can I take another picture of it before it’s gone? This time, with you standing by it?”

  “Of course.” He got up and stood by the painting, putting on a serious and dignified expression at first. Then he began to pose and make funny faces, making her laugh.

  “All right, that’s enough.” She slid her phone back into her purse. He began to clean up his things, tossing them into a plastic grocery bag so he could give them a thorough cleaning later at his apartment. They were quiet for a bit, with good music playing in the background, just enjoying the moment. A slight chill hit him. It was getting late. When he was finished, the bartender approached them and handed them each a bottle. He kindly thanked the man once again, then drew close to her after downing half the bottle in a few deep gulps.

  He looked into her eyes, then bent down, lower, lower, and gently kissed her lower lip. He could feel her shake ever so slightly. He kissed her again, this time wrapping his arm around her waist and drawing her close. She tasted like strawberries and wine. He pulled away—not that he wanted to.

  “So. We’re both adults, right?”

  “Yeah, well, at least one of us.” She smirked, then removed the cap from her bottle and took a taste.

  He shook his head and laughed.

  “I’m tryna see if you want to take me home tonight.” Lust fueled him, drove him to push forward.

  “Take you home? Like a pizza? A stray puppy?”

  “Like a man who wants you to feel comfortable in your own surroundings while I do some things to you that are nothin’ short of a masterpiece.” He glimmered at her, and she chuckled at that.

  “I know you’ve heard this shit before, comedians across the nation have made countless jokes about this very thing,” She waved her arm about. “But I don’t usually do this. Well, not in a long time, anyway. I used to do it a lot, but then I became more responsible.”

  “What? Taking stray puppies home is irresponsible? I may be a charity case, but believe me, you’re a benefactor, too.”

  “Oh? Is that right?”

  “Definitely. 911, I have an emergency. This woman is drawing out the inevitable. We need assistance. NOW.” She grimaced then laughed as he teased her. He grabbed his shirt from a hook, put it on, then slid on his coat. “So, what’s up?” He threw up his hands.

  “Let’s go.”

  “I’ll call us an Uber.”

  She nodded in agreement and gave him her address. He put it in his phone and said his goodbyes to a few familiar faces while she went to the ladies room with one of her friends. She returned looking a bit sheepish. That made him want her all the more. Taking her hand, he walked with her out of the club, and they waited for their ride to arrive.

  “Do you have protection?” she asked after a few moments of silence.

  “Of course… I think this is him.” He pointed up ahead. A black Toyota Avalon pulled up. He opened the back door for her and they slid inside. After a bit of small talk with the driver, they were on their way. He wrapped his arm around her and drew her near, placing a kiss on her cheek.

  “Ocean,” he whispered.

  “Eleven…”

  “Like the movie?”

  “Yes. My turn. Art.”

  “Deviant.”

  The woman’s brow rose.

  “That’s my nickname around here. ‘The Deviant Artist’…”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Spell Casting

  Suri placed her key in her apartment door lock, then paused. Her warped reflection showed in the oval brass door handle and knob, and so did the towering dark figure behind her. He reminded her of the Grim Reaper. Head slightly bowed with his jacket hood covering his face as he looked at his phone screen. Strands of black hair falling over his right eye. She took a deep breath, unlocked the door—the sound almost jarring—then pushed it open. A strong scent assailed her nostrils. Ahhh yes, pesto… Pesto angel hair pasta—what she’d had for dinner before heading out to the club.

  The man’s scent began to mingle with the flavors in the air. His energy was addictive. King exuded rivers of confidence, a profound presence, and mountains of mystery.

  “Come on inside,” she said. She closed the door behind him and engaged both locks, then the deadbolt. Removing her heels, she placed them underneath a small foyer table on top of which sat an artificial mini cherry tree plant.

  “Smells good in here. Like Italian food.” He maneuvered out of his jacket and looked around.

  He’s got a good eye and a good nose, apparently.

  “Yes, it was. I ate before I headed out this evening.” She hung his jacket on a hook by the front door and when she went to remove her own coat, she felt strong, yet gentle, hands helping her out of it. “Thank you.”

  I wonder if he’s hungry? I have leftovers, but if I offer them, what will he think I want from him? More than a lay? No need to risk that.

  They hadn’t talked a lot on the way over. The memory of the make-out session in the car made her body tingle still. They’d shared kisses people offered in the night, behind closed doors, whispered about over the phone, started to text about but then deleted before sending. The kind that made you feel like you were somewhere else, spinning out of control, and didn’t even quite feel yourself when the man of your lascivious dreams finally turned you loose.

  King’s lips had been soft and warm, and his kisses intense and all-encompassing. Everything about him seemed larger than life, yet he held a subtleness about him like she’d never seen. He wasn’t loud and pushy. In fact, he radiated confidence and appeared quite comfortable in his own skin. And his kiss gave all of this away.

  She could still feel the heat from his mouth on hers, and she wanted more of it.

  “You live in a nice part of town,” he said, breaking her out of her deliberations. Perhaps she was stealing time… dragging it out.

  “Yeah, it’s nice here.”


  “You said that you just moved in, right? I can tell.” He cracked his knuckles.

  “How?”

  “I can smell the fresh paint.” He smiled, and it was magic. She smiled back as she made her way into the taupe and ivory tiled kitchenette and retrieved a bottle of chilled water from the refrigerator.

  “Would you like one?”

  He nodded. She handed him a bottle, then turned on some music and led him over to the couch in her living room to have a seat. Thank goodness I vacuumed earlier today. I had no idea I would be having company.

  They sat down, side by side just when Jaguar Wright’s version of ‘Love, Need and Want You’ started to play. After taking a swallow, she set down her water on the gray and white coffee table, which was covered with an assortment of old medical periodicals preserved in clear jackets and spread out like fans. She leaned forward and lit an orange and mint scented candle.

  They sneaked glances and smiles and quiet laughter, an odd yet comforting thing. By now, she’d expected to be naked, but he was biding his time. Again, she was mystified by him. She looked into his eyes at that moment and something struck her in them—a certain purity that flashed in their depths for the briefest of moments. Her pussy flowed like a river, the moisture sticking to her thighs.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, I have a question.” He set down his satchel, untied his boots and slid them off, leaving his feet in white socks. He leaned back real easy like on her couch, his long limbs spread wide and his arm behind his head.

  “No, I’m not interested in anything more than what we came here for, so you don’t have to worry. And I—”

  “You make a lot of assumptions, Suri. It’s like you’re constantly trying to race me, but I’m not even going anywhere.” His expression was stern, serious.

  She had to admit he was right, and that was one of her faults.

  “Well, I was just trying to assure you is all.”

  “Your brain is constantly moving, isn’t it? That could get you in trouble. I see you didn’t learn your lesson from earlier in the evening about jumping the gun,” he chastised.